Chapter 41

Chapter 041: Please Lower Your Gaze

Perhaps, on Earth's normal timeline,

The ultimate unification of human civilization would have been a long and tortuous process.

It might have come through the gradual passage of time, peacefully uniting after eliminating barriers and misunderstandings.

Or perhaps, it would have evolved into a brutal war capable of destroying homes,

Potentially forcing the entire civilization to start over.

But in any case, it would most likely not have erupted within the lifetimes of this generation.

However, the Trial Ground appeared with dramatic suddenness.

With its cold, rational rules, it brought a Civilization Trial that was merciful in allowing individuals to "withdraw."

Compared to the worst-case scenario, this was undoubtedly much more peaceful.

Yet it was still destined to bring unimaginable pain, struggle, and disillusionment to some.

But...

No need for pity, no need to linger.

If you truly want to do something, then shout:

"Long live the great unity of the world's people!"

...

And in the crowd,

There were "stubborn minds" clinging to a heavy sense of responsibility.

Naturally, there were also those who "took things lightly," choosing to follow instinct and reality.

In fact, the latter were the majority.

...

Deep in the desert,

Inside a wooden hut half-buried by yellow sand,

A brown-haired man with cracked, bleeding lips leaned against the rough wooden wall, his chest rising and falling weakly.

He had gone a full three days without any food or water.

Before being transported to the Trial Ground, he was an office worker with zero wilderness survival knowledge.

But he knew that wandering aimlessly through the endless sea of sand in search of an oasis was no different from suicide.

So, from the very first day,

The man had pinned all his hopes on the daily-refreshing Supply Box, praying it would yield life-saving water or food.

Then, he would decide whether to take risks.

But as it turned out, he had bet wrong.

The results of his first three box openings grew more disheartening each time.

A pen, a notebook, and a brand-new pair of branded shoes...

That was all he had gained so far.

Of course, it wasn't entirely useless.

At least he could write a suicide note, right?

...To hell with a suicide note!

He didn't want to die here—absolutely not.

But for this brown-haired man, from the moment he decided to pin his hopes on the Supply Box, he had gradually stepped onto a one-way path with no turning back.

Now, he had completely lost any chance to regret.

He could only pray for good luck.

At this moment, the prompt sound of the Leaderboard Refresh was, to him, no different from the bell signaling the "Supply Box Refresh."

He mustered all his strength, trembling as he crawled to the simple box in the center of the room.

Then, he made a few gestures with his right hand in front of him, praying devoutly in his heart.

A minute later, he reached out to touch it.

A faint light flashed, and the box's form quickly solidified.

This was the lowest-grade Black Iron Chest.

The man showed no surprise or anger on his face.

Because he had never opened anything else.

He had become numb to the point of believing that Supply Boxes might only come in this one type.

His last hope.

At the very first moment, he struggled to lift the lid of the chest with both hands.

A book with a plain cover lay quietly at the bottom of the chest.

He froze for a moment, then laboriously retrieved it, and the title came into view—

Desert Survival Guide.

"..."

Dead silence.

Then, a hoarse laugh rang out in the wooden cabin, quickly dissolving into violent coughing.

The man laughed until he couldn't even shed tears, only a stinging dryness at the corners of his eyes.

What was this? A dark joke of fate?

At the edge of his limits, it delivered a guide on How to Survive in the Desert?

It was as if, in the most biting way, it mocked how foolish his three days of persistence and hope had been.

But soon, the man's anger faded, replaced by a sense of relief.

Because he no longer had to hold on.

He had reached his limit.

He thought to himself, at least he had done his duty to his country and his compatriots, right?

He had held out until the very last moment, when supplies were exhausted.

It was time to abandon the trial.

Gathering his blurry and scattered consciousness, he looked at the Status Panel.

He called up the Faction Ranking.

The top-ranked faction, which had been expanding its lead with leaps and bounds, stirred no ripple in his heart.

His gaze merely swept past it.

He had only come to check the factions at the bottom of the ranking, intending to gift them the 10 points from his elimination.

That was all.

But...

He never expected to see his own homeland because of this.

That glaring negative score...

In an instant, it completely shattered his defenses.

He laughed silently in his heart: "Couldn't even hold out for three days..."

"So everyone's situation is this bad, this unlucky?"

"Or... am I just too foolish?"

The man felt no anger; he thought he had no right to be angry as someone about to be eliminated.

Instead, a thought suddenly sprouted in his heart: "Maybe I should think about myself for once."

So, the man looked at the top-ranked faction, Huaxia.

That mind, once renowned for its excellent memory in his past work but utterly useless here...

Finally served a purpose.

It allowed him to successfully recall one of the many rules of the Trial Ground: [While adding points to your faction, you will also gain corresponding faction contribution.]

The 10 points added from elimination counted too, right?

What if...

What if that contribution turned out to be useful someday?

After all, the other side had practically already won.

And the final victor could never be his homeland anyway.

He quickly convinced himself.

Then, without further hesitation, the man gathered the last of his focus and triggered the "Abandon the Trial" option on the Status Panel.

A soft white light began to envelop him.

The Trial Ground's prompt followed: [Please select a faction other than your own for recommendation.]

His unfocused gaze swept one last time over that rear-ranked faction representing his homeland, with its pitiful, negative score.

Then it shifted to the name hanging at the top of the list, with a lead so vast it was despairing—Huaxia.

As he confirmed the selection, the man murmured devoutly in his heart:

"God, please cast your eyes down."

Then, using the last of his strength, he struggled to raise a middle finger toward the sky above.

The next second, the white light completely engulfed him.

In the cabin that followed, only the items from the Supply Box remained.

Among them, the brand-new "Desert Survival Guide" lay quietly on the sandy ground.

Like a cold joke.